Playground
by eyesofahuntress
Summary: He's cold. He's lethal. And he's absolutely ruthless. She needs to kill him before he has her for dinner. One question. How the hell, exactly, did Circle Daybreak expect her to find someone she didn't even know existed until, hmmm, two seconds ago?
1. Prelude: The Tainted One

**Disclaimer:** The Night World and all concepts associated with it belong entirely to the talented L. J. Smith. This story and its main characters belong to me. All original Night World characters and events apparent/mentioned in this story belong to L. J Smith.

All characters and events in this story other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

* * *

_  
The Night World isn't a place. It's all around us. It's a secret society of vampires, werewolves, witches, and other creatures of darkness that live among us. They're beautiful and deadly and irresistible to humans. Your high school teacher could be one, and so could your boyfriend. The Night World laws say it's okay to hunt humans. It's okay to toy with their hearts, it's even okay to kill them. There are only two things you can't do with them.  
_

_1) Never let them find out that the Night World exists.  
2) Never fall in love with one of them._

_These are stories about what happens when the rules get broken.  
_

* * *

**/PLAYGROUND/- **a **Night World fanfiction** by **dashboard**

**Extended Summary:** He's cold. He's lethal. And he's absolutely ruthless. She needs to kill him before he has her for dinner. Only problem? She doesn't have a clue who he is. So how the hell, exactly, did Circle Daybreak expect her to find someone she didn't even know existed until, hmmm, let's see- two seconds ago?

* * *

**PRELUDE: The Tainted One**

**/Executioner: an official who executes a condemned person/**

He laughed as the vampire crawled away from him.

"I'm faster than you. I'm smarter than you. I'm stronger than you."

Damien stated matter-of-factly before pausing for effect, the corner of his mouth lifting into a sadistic smile.

"Therefore, you're going to **_die_**."

Tracking was his favorite game. And he was about to enter the playground.

Oh, he'd find them. _All_ of them. Especially the one who was manipulating it all from behind the scenes. And then, well, killing just happened to be his second favorite game.

There was only room for one master manipulator in this world, and he was it.

Pathetic Daybreakers.** I'll break them all.** He chuckled at the inside joke, casually stabbing yet another toothpick into the body of his most recent conquest. It barely managed a whimper. Now pain, pain was a drug. It was the one thing that could break you and yet make you feel more alive than ever before.

Damien took a moment to observe his handiwork. He always enjoyed admiring the product of his own twisted mind. Tilting his head to the side, he congratulated himself on the creativity. It looked like a much, much more interesting variation of your average porcupine.

He liked being unpredictable- it was what made him such a good tracker.

The vampire continued dragging his body painstakingly slowly across the concrete. The rusty smell of bad blood tainted the air with a sour aftertaste. But, blood was blood and in a flash, Damien was beside it, smiling down endearingly at the vampire boy who was still trying to get away despite having lost half of his gut content to the asphalt. And most likely part of his actual gut as well, Damien added thoughtfully.

Death had always fascinated him. One long pale finger traced along the trail of blood, before Damien bought it to his own smiling lips.

The boy's hands were clawed and bleeding as he desperately dug his fingers faster into the cracks between the pavements. At the gentle lilt of Damien's soft, deadly voice, many had become desperate.

Yes, Damien seemed to have that effect on most people. Kristian Damien Redfern was a fate worse than death.

But he had changed his mind. He was going to let this one go.

After all, where was the fun in a game with only one player?

* * *

**A/N: **Just so you all don't run off screaming, the rest of the story will not be this dark or depressing- it's just a part of Damien's character, lol. I like humor; some of my favorite Night World books are the ones with moments of humor that just manage to catch me off guard in a train or a bus, making me look very much the part of the mad Asian girl cackling in the back seat. This is just a short prelude, which I hope you all enjoy. Feel free to drop in a review on what you like or don't like- I promise I don't bite ;) I'm always looking to improve my writing. Anyway, Chapter One will be up soon, featuring my other main character and some of L. J. Smith's original Night World characters (cough, Circle Daybreak, cough). Well, that's all for now.

Cheers,

**dash**


	2. Chapter 1: Bad Day

**/PLAYGROUND/ **a** Night World fanfiction **by** dashboard**

**In the Prelude: **Kristian Damien Redfern decides to track down the person behind Circle Daybreak and is ruthlessly bent on the task of eradicating all members of the aforementioned Circle. He lets the Daybreak vampire he was originally planning to kill go back to the Circle to purposefully alert them- he likes a challenge, and thinks that by doing this, the game, as he sees it, would be much more fun.

* * *

**CHAPTER 1: Bad Day**

**/She strung the stars together, and asked them to sing/**

Ash Redfern ran a hand through his blonde hair, sparkling yellow eyes narrowing and darkening to an inky blue as he listened to the cool voice on the other side of the mobile phone.

Mary-Lynnette shot him a worried look, and he managed a slight smile at his soulmate, moving his arm to entwine his fingers with hers, his thumb massaging the back of her hand in small, circular motions.

Leaning into the red leathered backing of the booth the couple had found themselves in after Thierry had promised them a day _alone_, Ash tried to relax. Circle Daybreak had really been working him hard lately.

He hardly even had time to think about how much he loved her. Her- his M'Lyn. And God, that had to be saying something, as he thought about her almost every waking moment of his day. All twenty four hours of it.

"You sure?" he asked into the mouthpiece tiredly.

Mary-Lynnette studied the dark smudges under his eyes, and frowned. They needed to cut her boyfriend some slack. Just because he was once Hunter's favorite great-great-grandson didn't mean he knew everything about the inner workings of the Night World Council. And being a vampire certainly didn't make him invincible.

When he finally put the phone down, Ash buried his head in her shoulder. She gave him a few quiet minutes while they waited for the late night coffees they had so rashly ordered moments before. The two had been acting like a star struck couple all day- mostly because they hardly had time to see each other any more. More so that _he_ didn't have time.

Whoever thought Thierry would be a slave driver? Maybe we should have joined Circle Midnight or something instead, Mary-Lynnette thought dryly. Never mind that neither of them were witches.

She reached out one of her hands and stroked his hair gently, while the other remained entwined with his.

"What do they want now?" she asked softly, so as to not disturb the peacefulness of the moment.

Ash stirred, lifting his head. Light coloured strands fell into his sleepy eyes, but they couldn't obscure the intensity with which he was looking at her.

She was uncertain now, unsure- as always his gaze had that effect on her.

Something felt wrong though. It was as if Ash was holding something back from her. Like he was purposefully shielding his thoughts from her.

Mary-Lynnette's eyebrows were drawn over her wide blue eyes as she scrutinized him.

He knew that look.

After a brief moment of silence, she inquired hesitantly, "… Ash?"

"Mary-Lynnette Carter! I'm so glad you're my soulmate."

His sudden proclamation made her laugh.

Before she could even open her mouth to reply, the waitress brought their coffees over, setting them down on the red and white checkered tablecloth.

One frothy cappuccino and one soy latte, no sugar.

_I'm so glad you're my soulmate._ If she got the chance, she would reply. **I'm so glad you're here… with me.**

Ash was reprimanding himself. He shouldn't have just lied to his girlfriend. Well, in actuality, he hadn't really lied, just averted her thoughts.

He would never be able to express the wonder he had felt when someone as tainted as himself had been offered the opportunity for redemption; redemption and a second chance with his soulmate. He had returned to Briar Creek after a year, actually scared- yes, the notorious Ash Redfern had been quaking in his boots at the thought that maybe Mary-Lynnette had already left, or had moved on. But Mare had waited for him.

He covered both of her hands in his own now, tenderly. Almost as though he was afraid she would break.

Ash Redfern owed Circle Daybreak more than words could express- in fact, more than his life could give.

A touch bitterly, he thought: **she's going to find out... ****eventually****.  
**

But what she doesn't know can't hurt her, right? At least, not right now. He just had to make sure the guys at headquarters kept their big mouths shut. It should be easy. His eyes narrowed to a steely knife edge grey as he touched his lips to Mary-Lynnette's hair, his arm casually around her shoulders.

No one, and nothing, would be able to hurt her. He'd brought this upon her, and he'd protect her.

Ash Redfern was going to embark on yet another of Thierry's missions, whether he wanted to or not.

But seriously, what was he to do? Refuse because he somehow _needed_ to be with Mary-Lynnette without putting her in danger? How could he turn them down when he knew that the Circle was alarmingly short on numbers these days?

Daybreak had major recruiting work to do.

Just this one last time- he owed Thierry more than a favor. He hoped that this time he would still be the lucky bastard he was and complete the mission with all his body organs intact.

Last time he'd tried to set a werewolf on a vampire who was killing too many humans. Didn't turn out quite how he had expected as the werewolf had somehow gotten the strange notion that _Ash_ was the vampire he needed to rip the throat out of. So much for keeping it all quiet- Ash had fought to keep his life.

Now he had to think- who? Who was on the other side? And who to send—

Ash was happily jerked out of his troubled thoughts when Mary-Lynnette kissed him, and for a while, the only thing he could think of was that she tasted deliciously of slightly roasted coffee beans and honey.

**I'll take care of you, I promise.**

* * *

Ayla Rousseau grimaced as the leech caught her off guard by turning into a pile of stinky ashes. Her hair was now, courtesy of the old fart, a dusty brown, as were her clothes.

Lord, she hated the ones that did that- usually the ancient, cranky ones. One would have thought that she'd gotten over her allergic reaction to dust mites by now.

She sneezed, her eyes watering.

Ayla wiped at her tears of irritation. It was an annoying allergy in her line of work. Personally, she preferred the leeches that shriveled into shrunken corpses. Even if they _did _take longer to cease existing.

Sighing, she turned back for home- a single bedroom apartment situated in one of the many inconspicuous high rise buildings of New York City. This would be her second shower for the day, but she would be grateful to get rid of all remnants of vampire.

Ayla Rousseau was eighteen, finishing her last year of school and utterly, _utterly_ alone.

And heck, she loved it.

There was a soft **ding** before she was strolling comfortably out of the elevator, bag in hand.

The key turned in the lock of door 303 with a satisfying click.

Now, the ringing of the phone the moment she had set a foot into the apartment was simply not quite as satisfying. In fact, it was more than a niggling annoyance. She swore- if it was another one of those telemarketers, she would probably be inclined to rip out her hair. Or, preferably, rip out _their_ hair if she could.

Today just wasn't her day. All she wanted was to jump into the shower to rid herself of that awful, _dead _smell that always clung to her after staking the opposition. Ha.

Grabbing the phone, she hissed into the receiver, "I don't want to buy anything, I don't want to answer any questions, and no, I will damn well _not_ give you my name."

There was a slight pause, then a light chuckle, "You haven't changed a bit, Ayla Rousseau."

Her warm brown eyes narrowed behind the fringe as she replied coolly, "I see you're as annoying as ever, Ash Redfern."

"Wow, her highness actually remembers my name. I'm shocked!"

"Shut up, _boy_. Whatever you called me for, it had better be good," she growled into the receiver.

His tone became serious, "Thierry just gave me a call."

Ayla groaned, massaging her neck with her free, not so grimy hand.

Another chuckle, "My reaction exactly."

"You're laughing way too much these days. It's freaky. But do give my congratulations to Mary-Lynnette for saving you from the pig-headed, arrogant, and extremely masochistic path you were heading down. Poor girl, now she's stuck with you."

"Hey!"

Ayla ignored him, "So what did Thierry want, exactly?"

"He wants you to stop whatever put a hundred matchsticks into our friend David. Preferably in a gentle way, of course, with as little harm as possible," he paused, "on both sides."

"Of course," she muttered, rolling her eyes.

Ayla tried to remember who David was, and drew a complete blank. As though reading her mind, Ash answered, "David's- uh- _was_- a new Circle Daybreak vampire."

Ayla paused to think before asking, "I'm assuming it's a case of dog eat dog?"

"You could put it that way."

Not many things could afford to take their time killing a vampire.

"And how, exactly, does the talented Mr. Thierry Descouedres expect me to, I quote, "_gently put a stop to_" whatever happened to porcupine poor Daniel or whoever it was?"

"David."

"Well?" She tapped her fingers on the edge of the table, impatient to get the conversation over with.

"Well, he expects me to get stuck into finding this vampire's enclave while you distract the said vampire. Somehow. Long enough for me to remain alive, hopefully."

"I assume that the "said vampire" is just going to rock up on my door?"

"Ah… no. Hey, Ayla?"

"Hmmm?"

"You might want to find out, _whom_, exactly, he or she is first. Just an idea."

It was at that point that Ayla Rousseau slammed down the phone, ending the long distance call. Who knew where the hell Ash was? Probably making out with his newly found girlfriend and soulmate extraordinaire. Ayla considered anyone who could stand to be in the same room with that self-centered jerk without pitching a tomato at him more than ordinary.

Whatever.

She was going to have a whole hour long shower to contemplate this. And _nothing_ was going to stop her. Unless it wanted to die in an excruciatingly painful manner, she added as an afterthought.

She was pretty sure the school could stand a couple of periods without her obviously scintillating presence before calling the phony number she'd given them to confirm her terrible "habit" of skipping class with her "parents".

The Lancers would back her up.

And, hell, Thierry had _better_ be sending a big, fat folder of information to her house right about now.

Ayla released a stream of profanities as doorbell rang.

**Someone better have a damn good excuse.**

* * *

**  
A/N:** Well, that's it for the first chapter, hope you guys enjoyed it. So now that the scene is set, and the main characters have been introduced- has anyone got any thoughts on it? I really hope you like Ayla and maybe some day you'll get to like Damien too :o) My chapters for this story are rather short compared to my story on Fictionpress, but this is the way I want to write it. Good things come in small packages, right? This story will be updated at least once a month, and yes, it might take a long time, but it **will **be finished, with or without reviews .:tears:. I'm an authorgirl who never leaves her readers hanging, no matter how long it takes! Oh and please remember to review if you like my story so far- your comments are invaluable. They motivate me into writing faster and better. Just a warning though- I'm also the sort of authorgirl who reads and re-reads her work ten million times and still manages to find fault with it. I'm the breed of writer who will, simply based on feeling unsatisfied with my writings, delete whole chapters and start from scratch again- so sometimes the updates may come later than the said date (but they **will** come, lol)- hey, I have the philosophy of quality over quantity. That's all for this time 'round.

Cheers and thanks.

**dash**

**P.S: **The next chapter will be up in approx. a week or two, with monthly updates after that.

**NOTE:** I've just noticed Fanfiction's **lyrics-removal policy**, and have subsequently removed the **Savage Garden** lyrics that were originally at the beginning of this chapter. Instead I'm putting in random sentences (from some of my poems) which will eventually amount to something significant within the story- so take note, my dears.

* * *

**enchantednight84: **Thank you, my first dear, lovely, _wonderful_ reviewer! I'm glad you thought to review in the five seconds that you had left .:tear:. that was really very kind of you. Thank you for liking the prelude. I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well. I welcome your thoughts, be they good or bad :o) !


	3. Chapter 2: Deadly Intentions

**/PLAYGROUND/ **a** Night World fanfiction **by** dashboard**

**In the Previous Chapter: **Ash Redfern is sent on yet another mission by Thierry Descouedres. Ash decides not to tell Mary-Lynnette about the new mission, as it is particularly dangerous. Thierry suggests he enlist the help of an old "friend", Ayla Rousseau, who is the most prominent vampire slayer around since Rashel Jordan (previously known as "The Cat") withdrew to Circle Daybreak with her soulmate, John Quinn. Ayla is not a part of Circle Daybreak; she prefers to work alone. She is however, on good terms with Daybreak members, in particular, Thierry and Ash. Sometimes, she even visits their headquarters. Before she became a lone slayer, Ayla Rousseau participated in the activities of The Lancers, a successful vampire slaying organisation situated on the East Coast.

* * *

**CHAPTER 2: Deadly Intentions**

**/And everything shattered into a million crystalline pieces/**

The pizza boy chewed on his gum with an extremely bored expression on his pizza face, one hand holding three boxes of, she squinted, Domino's Pizzas.

Oh no, Ayla didn't intend to be polite to Mr. Pizza Face, not at all.

"Ya ordered pizza?" He managed to burp out between popping gum.

There was a brief, stunned moment of silence. Why, the disgusting little _prick_!

"Who the hell orders god damned _pizzas_ at," she glanced at her wristwatch, "EIGHT THIRTY IN THE FRICKIN' MORNING?"

"Apparently, you did, Miss." The boy replied innocently enough.

Too bad he was going to have that oily pizza face slapped so hard that she doubted he was even going to _have_ a face afterward.

After staring disbelievingly at the boy for a few moments (what a waste of her precious time), Ayla Rousseau slammed the door shut before she could do anything profoundly stupid, and ultimately, regrettable. She could almost see the headlines- mad girl pulls out pizza boy's hair in unexplained fit of rage.

Sucking in a couple of deep breaths to calm herself, Ayla picked her way between the piles of dirty laundry and three nights worth of takeaway boxes until she reached the door of the bathroom.

Half used tubes of toothpaste, old toothbrushes and toilet rolls cluttered the limited space near the sink. She swore again as she knocked over a bottle of what claimed to be "lavender hand wash". Hmmm, she didn't like the green, mouldy stuff growing on its sides.

Maybe she should actually try to clean the place up.

But seriously, who expects a _vampire slayer_ to do such mundane, everyday things as washing dishes, laundry and vacuuming?

No, everyone just expects a Buffy look alike who somehow manages pay the bills, keep her room freakishly neat, do well at school and still have every strand of hair fall in place after kicking vampire butt.

Ayla nearly snorted as she observed herself in the soap filmed mirror- she didn't even come close.

First off, no, Ayla Rousseau did not, in fact, have endless, golden legs. She was short- barely reaching 160cm. Neither was her hair a lovely, sun-kissed blonde. And her perfectly ochre eyes definitely had no hint of blue in them. Heck, God hadn't even cared enough to spare a speck of green when it came to her assets. This was probably why, Ayla thought resentfully, she didn't like God much.

She brought her face closer to the mirror. She didn't look like a pixie, she wasn't cute or elegant, didn't have any to-die-for cheekbones anyone could actually _see_, and hell, she was as far away from a model as a sloth was from a cheater (apparently a motivated sloth is 440 times slower than a motivated cheater).

Other than being your average, girl-next-door type, there was nothing particularly spectacular about her. Scary, maybe, spectacular, no.

She liked to use one word to describe herself.

Ayla Rousseau was fierce.

And that's what Ayla liked to be. She was, and could be: fiercely protective, fiercely loving, fiercely loyal, fiercely angry, fiercely happy, and fiercely sad. She could be any of those things at one time. Heck, she could even be _all_ those things at one time, but she highly doubted anyone would want to stick around long enough to see it

However, one thing was pretty much constant- her eyes would always be blazing, and her eyebrows would always be drawn over them… in a fierce manner.

That, and someone would_ always_ have to ruin the comfortable stance she took with herself by asking, "Why are you so angry all the time?"

Ash had been the last person who tried calling her a lemon-sucker. She didn't doubt that he wouldn't forget the lesson soon.

Ayla Rousseau had an extremely painful knee-jerk reaction, and an absolutely deadly aim.

* * *

Damien ignored the lustful gazes that lingered after him as he sauntered down the hallway of Larson High, one of New York's upper-class high schools. Though how any place filled with vermin could be labelled as "upper-class" was beyond the grasp of his plainly brilliant mind.

He'd lived on an enclave for half his life and spent the other, more recent half, making his way around the world. He had particularly enjoyed visiting Switzerland- the high plateaus and desolate, icy landscapes appealed to him in more ways than one.

Essentially, Damien was a cold person. His thoughts were always clear and collected, and he seemed to be perpetually detached from the rest of civilization.

On the enclave, any display of emotion had been inappropriate.

If he walked, they ran after him, always trying to catch him in an off guard moment of weakness in hope that they would get to punish him. If he fell, they would watch as he wordlessly picked himself off the ground. Then they would smile, and push him again. And if he screamed, well, they'd shut him up.

They'd shut him up real good.

Damn executioners.

But really, he should thank them.

After all, without all that he'd endured and they'd given, he would never have learned how to place reason and logic over emotion and sentiment.

Yes, that was all his mother had been to him- an ugly sentiment.

An irritating imperfection, a blatant flaw, and inevitably, a fatal weakness. But he hadn't allowed it to be.

Everyone knew that one had to either destroy their weakness or be destroyed by it. Like many things in this world, there was no room for two. An ultimatum was reached, and a decision made.

Now, he had his emotions well in hand- so well in hand that they were barely there.

No one knew what he was really thinking. In fact, no one came close to even guessing, and so, no one could imitate his thoughts. He was like a cornered jaguar; dangerous and unpredictable. Able to lash out whenever he damn well wanted to. But of course, none dared to provoke him.

**It's a definite plus when one enjoys playing strategic games.**

Damien smiled languorously at the thought.

Circle Daybreak had to have set someone on him by now, of that he was sure.

All he had to do now was wait for that _someone_ to make a mistake. Weaknesses are like bleeding wounds, and he could find other people's weaknesses so fast that they would still be smiling as he brought the knife in for a second turn.

Oh, he would wait- if it was one thing he'd learned in his nineteen years of existence, it was patience. Waiting always brought the bigger, juicier prey.

And where better to observe the unfolding of the board, the setting out of the game pieces, but your average, testosterone filled_ human_ high school? There was no place safer. Not that he ever needed to be protected. But he was a cautious person who regarded the philosophy of "better safe than sorry" extremely highly.

Damien Redfern could defend himself very well, thank you. It came naturally with being a lamia.

No one would expect Hunter's most recent successor to be a mere boy, eloquent though his speech was.

Apparently the fact that no one else could bring a room of lethargic adult vampires to apprehensive fear with a single look didn't change the other, more annoying fact that Damien Redfern was still only nineteen.

Too young, many had argued.

It was almost amusing how they'd all shut up when he'd staked a vampire to the ground to make his point. Damien had always believed that actions spoke louder than words. Granted, he was a man of few words.

He had then reinforced their tentative understanding of what would happen if anyone ever brought up that particular topic of discussion again by driving a second stake effortlessly into the cemented top of the hard oak table.

He cherished the memory of how the discussion room, in that instant, became the silent room.

Over the years, he acquired that the best way for anyone to learn was by setting examples.

He'd looked slowly into every single one of their faces, enjoying how they turned away from his own impassively calm, aristocratic features, before turning his burning gaze to the elder.

"You don't want to die. **Again**. Now do you?"

No, Damien had no compassion whatsoever for his own kind, and even less for any other species. Frankly he just didn't give a shit about anything, or indeed, anyone other than himself. In Damien Redfern's world, there was only one person who mattered. All intruders, be they vampire, shape-shifter, witch or human resembled insignificant specks of dust.

Clearly disposable, utterly unnecessary.

Witches were just humans with a hint of psychic prowess. They were dabblers. Shape shifters, on the other hand… all brawn and no brain. And on the rock bottom of that ladder was vermin. Scratch that, they weren't even _on_ the ladder. In fact, being crushed under the sole of his expensive leather shoe would be too good a fate for a human and rather unlucky for the shoe.

He despised them, loathed them, detested them and would gladly eradicate their whole population if it wasn't for the rather satirical aspect he'd rather forget.

Kristian Damien Redfern needed _vermin_ to survive. Or, more precisely, their blood. It was almost laughable. He wasn't afraid to admit it, but that didn't mean he didn't resent the fact.

If he could find as rich a source of blood that didn't come from vermin, they would simply and irrevocably cease to exist.

The elders had branded him a rebel, and they'd put a stash of money on his head. Or, more accurately, _for_ his head. Oh, they'd sent assassins and ninjas alike after him, but it had been like sending fleas to kill a tiger. He'd simply picked them off, and squashed them.

He was powerful, and he possessed no conscience. It was a lethal combination. Damien Redfern never gave second chances, and he never left his people room for redemption. If you faltered, you were as good as dead.

And all that unnecessary blood and guts just because the elder had wrongly labelled him "too young". Truthfully, Damien rather liked his age. Maybe he would stop the aging this year- it had been a good year. The slave trade was in full roar, he had built several new enclaves after the prominent Dark Kingdom enclave was destroyed by his traitor of a cousin, and he would, later this year, be known as the sole vampire responsible for single-handedly ridding the Night World of the little nuisances that liked to call themselves Daybreakers.

All the attempts at his life the elders had concocted to try and rid themselves of him had failed miserably.

Even the infamous Night World Council didn't dare touch him. What with his late great-grandfather, the highly respected patriarch of the Redfern family, paying off at least half of them in blood, and the other half in God knows what else, the Council didn't really represent an issue.

Yeah. Damien Redfern was feeling hellishly good. No pun intended.

He flashed a dazzling smile at the aging secretary, his light grey eyes smouldering under dark, spiky lashes.

"Kristian Renferd?"

What could he say- the last name wasn't exactly original. But it would do.

This might be fun. A perfect stage for his perfect performance.

Maybe he could fool them all into thinking that _he_ was the nice guy. That way, they would never know what turned around and bit them in the neck, literally.

His acting skills were at an impasse. But he always thought to improve. The word "improve" in this sense taking the meaning of: to become more powerful.

Leaning forward slightly in his chair so that strands of his dirty blonde fringe fell into his eyes, he murmured, "That's me, Miss."

When the hopelessly dim-witted old lady didn't seem to catch on, he continued in a pleasantly soft voice, "I'm new here."

"Oh. Sorry, dear." The secretary blinked rapidly behind thick glasses, then handed him a piece of paper, "This is your schedule. Would you like someone to-"

Before she had even finished her sentence, Damien was strolling casually out the door, schedule in hand.

"I'm sure I'll find my way," he tossed back casually at her. Yes, it's **_perfectly_** normal that the pathetic human didn't even check his records.

The sweet aroma of blood was everywhere, but he wasn't about to go on a blood feast. At least, not yet.

The corners of his mouth deepened into something resembling a smile when the secretary mumbled a vague, "Enjoy your day then, dear," before looking down and shuffling her papers into a neat pile in front of her. Again.

* * *

It had been three days since Ash had gotten the phone call, and he'd rushed back to headquarters with Mary-Lynnette. Bad decision. Of all the people he expected to blurt about his mission to Mare, he didn't expect it to be _Thierry._

He flailed his arms, mouthing a desperate "no" at Thierry behind Mary-Lynnette's back. When the older vampire managed to cast him a blank look, Ash gave up trying to send signals to Thierry that Mar-Lynnette didn't have the slightest clue about this mission. It was obviously a hopeless cause. Seriously, the guy must have lost more than a few brain cells since he was reunited with Hannah. Just shows that you can't judge by looks, because Hannah Snow definitely hadn't seemed like the abusive type.

Mary-Lynnette trembled with barely contained anger as she glared incredulously at the director of Circle Daybreak.

"Ah… darn," Thierry smiled sheepishly, "I'm guessing Ash _didn't_ tell you?"

"No," she glanced back at her soulmate who was looking anywhere but towards her, "he didn't."

There was an awkward silence.

"Ahem. Ah… well. Right. I'll give you two a bit of private time, eh?"

Mary-Lynnette had never known Thierry to move so quickly out of his own office before.

Smart move, because this wasn't going to be pleasant at all.

Ash opened his mouth, reaching out a hand to pull her close, but she cut him short with a terse, "Don't."

He let his arm fall back by his side.

"I thought you trusted me," she stated, staring at the lush white carpet that stretched from wall to wall of Thierry's office.

Ash stood up in one fluid motion, and before she even had time to blink, he was standing in front of her. She hated how vampires did that, especially when you were trying to keep your distance from them.

"I do."

Finally, she looked up, her eyes a scorching summer sky blue, "I don't call not telling your girlfriend that you're about to travel to some random enclave and _possibly _be hacked to pieces with wooden _KNIVES_," her voice rose dangerously with the last word. Mary-Lynnette took a deep breath to calm herself and lower her voice (no doubt Thierry was eavesdropping shamelessly in the next room), "very trusting."

"It's not that important okay?" Ash muttered, trying to redeem himself.

Mary-Lynnette closed her eyes before she could do something she would regret later, such as kicking him very, very hard. And this time, she wouldn't be aiming for the shin.

Think of stars, stars sprinkled across a lovely velvet sky- Jupiter, Venus, Saturn… and what was the one that everyone always forgot? Pluto, that was it. But Pluto wasn't really even a planet anymore, not since they'd reclassified the whole system- oh screw rationality, she was allowed to be hysterical when her soulmate didn't think that telling her he MIGHT BE KILLED within the next week was very important.

Mary-Lynnette was so angry that she could almost cry in frustration.

"It is important," to her humiliation and surprise, her voice cracked and tears started welling up in her eyes.

One look at Ash's horrified expression and wavering hands made her sniffle all the more.

"I don't want you to die without telling me. I want to know if you're going to be doing something dangerous and-" she hiccuped, feeling rather pathetic, "I want to be there- here- for you and…"

Then he was holding her in his arms, wiping away any traces of tears with his hand and kissing her forehead almost fiercely.

And she was in his mind, a strange yet familiar place. Soft yellow edges and sharp grey planes angled this world. She touched a sharp shard gingerly, pleasantly surprised when it melted into iridescent sparkles beneath her palm.

Somehow, she knew that he didn't to tell her because _he_ was worried that _she _would worry. It would have been amusing in a different context.

**Silly boy. That's what girlfriends do. We worry.**

She felt his almost aching need to be with her and yet, at the same time, to protect her.

His voice took on the unreasonable quality of a little boy,** but I don't want you to worry. I don't want you to be hurt, ever. I want you to be safe.**

Leaning her head slightly on his tense shoulder and feeling him relax, she replied.

**Have you ever thought that, just maybe, I feel the same way?**

It was then that they both understood each other. Completely, absolutely, perfectly.

And it also happened to be at that exact moment that the door to Thierry Descouedres' office slammed open and a fuming Rashel Jordan stalked in.

* * *

**A/N:** Well, the next update is here! I hope I haven't kept you guys waiting too long .:smiles:. Anyway, a longer chapter this time, and more of the original Night World characters make their appearance! Truthfully, I'm quite fond of all of Mrs. Lisa's characters so you might see them strolling through the story here and there… rather often. Heh. But back to my own characters… Damien is quite scary, isn't he? Hmmm, I certainly wouldn't want to make him my enemy! I'd be running before he came within a thirty meter radius of me! Okay… maybe not, since he really _is_ quite delectable. We all enjoy the occasional(?) perv, right ;) ?

Cheers.

**dash**

* * *

_I'm so incredibly touched that you guys actually thought to review .:tear:. and I guess I just wanted you to know that you're all gorgeous and the reviews really made my day :)_

**Dulce Ambrosia:** Thank you very much for the thoughtful review, I'm glad I've intrigued you into wanting to read more. Oh, and you bet, Ayla definitely has a strong personality, but as for Damien, his lack of emotions seems to suggest that he has no personality at all .:sweat:. !

**enchantednight84:** Heya, don't apologize for short reviews oh wonderful reader- I'm just happy that you left a thought .:smiles:. Ash is one of my favorite male characters from the Night World series- the others being Delos and Quinn (I seem to have an affinity for the vampire males .:sweat:.). But it's hard to pick favorites with any of the characters. Really, I wouldn't be able to choose (and probably wouldn't want to either)! Anyway, you'll be seeing many of the original Night World characters taking a somewhat casual stroll through Ayla and Damien's story.

**WalkThruTheFire:** Thank you for the review, and I have also read your story .:smiles:. keep on writing pal! Hopefully you enjoy this chapter as well... heh, it's a little longer than last time and yet more characters grace the screen before you. Cheers!

**Starfire-02:** Well, many things will happen m'dear, and you better keep on reading and telling me what you think on those matters .:grins:. I'll take a look at Haunted Childhood when I next come on the net- I have a Chemistry Practical to attend soon .:sweat:. I don't like Chemistry... unless it's between the characters. Heh. Catchya next time!

**Percieve:** Thank you for enjoying the story! Actually, my characters are slightly cliche, but I _like_ cliche! Well, hopefully this story will be cliche in a non-cliche way- urgh, that doesn't even make sense. But ah well .:shrugs:. please keep reading my story- I promise to improve .:smiles:.


	4. Chapter 3: Settlements

**/PLAYGROUND/ **a** Night World fanfiction **by** dashboard**

**In the Previous Chapter: **Ayla is finally on her way to her much deserved shower. Meanwhile, Damien Redfern begins his first day at Larson High. Three days later, in Massachusetts, where the current Circle Daybreak headquarters are located, Ash Redfern and Mary-Lynnette Carter meet up with Thierry, who unwittingly reveals Ash's mission to Mary-Lynette. Mary-Lynette becomes very angry with Ash, who makes her cry. Ash kisses Mary-Lynette on the forehead and their soulmate connection flairs up. Just as the couple are making up to each other, a very angry Rashel Jordan storms into the office.

* * *

**CHAPTER 3: ****Settlements**

**/****The sky was storming, and rain was falling…/**

"So I'm retired now, am I, the stupid-"

Rashel looked up, stopping suddenly and almost causing Quinn to run her over.

Surprised to find two people in Thierry Descouedres' office who didn't resemble anything like the Lord of the Night World, Rashel raised a dark eyebrow.

Mary-Lynette was rapidly turning a pink hue under her healthy tan as she disentangled herself from Ash.

"What's up?" Ash stated coolly, an arm firmly around Mary-Lynette's waist as she tried to slap his hand away.

"The Lancers, that's what."

Rashel Jordan was fuming.

"What about The Lancers? I thought we were on good terms with them," Thierry commented casually as he ambled through the door.

Rashel's green eyes flashed angrily, "They've been telling everyone that I've retired! What am I, eighty?"

Chuckling, Thierry settled into his high backed leather chair.

Her hands firmly placed on trim hips, Rashel continued, "Seriously though, do I look like I have a double chin? How DARE they call me "out of shape" just because _you_," she pointed a finger accusatorily at Thierry, "haven't been sending me on missions?"

Quinn rolled his eyes towards the sky, or in this case, the high ceiling of the spacious office.

Without turning her head, Rashel asserted, "Don't think I didn't see that, Quinn."

When she glanced at him, he smiled innocently back at her, black eyes wide and guileless.

After taking out a couple of heavy, dust coated folders from one of his many drawers, Thierry answered, "Actually, if you're fingers are that itchy for work, Ash could—"

Quinn cut in, "No."

"No what?" Rashel questioned her soulmate. Curiosity never killed The Cat- not this particular kitten anyway.

"She's not going with Ash to that enclave," Quinn stated calmly, glaring at Thierry.

Ash grimaced as Mary Lynette's head whipped back towards him, her voice breaking against his mind with the force of a sledgehammer. **You managed to tell **_**Quinn**_**, of all people, about the mission but not your own soulmate?**

Shifting nervously under her mental scream of frustration, Ash replied quickly. **Mare, even if I hadn't told him, Quinn would have found out anyway. That guy can knock out an entire **_**room**_** of people with his telepathic ability, let alone succeed in prying one little piece of information from me.**

On the other side of the room, Rashel tied her sleek black hair deftly into a ponytail, eyes narrowed with obvious annoyance. Letting her gaze flicker between Quinn and Thierry, she assessed the situation.

"Excuse me?" Rashel's green eyes fired up as she rounded on her soulmate, "Mr. John Quinn, I think I'm able to speak for myself!"

The atmosphere in the room was quickly becoming uncomfortable as Rashel lifted a calloused hand- the old scars there reminded everyone that she was still known as one of the most efficient vampire hunters the Night World had come across for years. The Cat. Using that alias, she'd staked a lifetime of vampires, her true identity hidden. Surely, if nothing else, Rashel Jordan was more than capable of self defence… and protecting those she cared about.

Quinn grabbed her hand in mid motion, his expression softening as Rashel lifted her chin stubbornly. He knew his girlfriend had a proud streak, and her pride had been bruised by the earlier conversation with The Lancers. He needed to treat this topic gingerly so as to not hurt her pride again. Even so, Quinn's tone remained deadly serious as he contemplated the best words to use- this wasn't something he wanted to joke about.

Threading his fingers through hers, he replied, "I don't want a repeat of what _almost_ happened the last time you set foot on an enclave. Remember?"

Rashel pulled her hand away from his, her lips set in a thin line. She replied curtly, "Yeah. And I happen to remember that _you're_ the one who almost killed me."

There was a flash of hurt in his obsidian eyes before his face was safely passive again. When she turned to face him, Quinn looked past her as though he didn't register her existence. Rashel felt an immediate stab of guilt- it had been a low blow and she knew it. "Sorry," she muttered, looking away.

**It's alright**, Quinn whispered to her gently, **I know why you want to lash out**.

And his hand found hers again. **Quinn… aren't you mad at me?** Rashel demanded, confused.

She could see a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It was a smile that shed rainbows.

**Because I know you**, he replied simply.

"Ahem." Thierry coughed, "If I could interrupt the moment- isn't anyone wondering why I've called you all back to headquarters on such short notice?"

There was a sheepish silence.

Checking his watch, Thierry made his way swiftly across the room, "The others should be here by now."

* * *

"Why, I see we're all in _Harman_-y here," Thierry wrapped Hannah in a hug before placing a swift kiss on Thea's cheek.

"Merry meet," he used the witch's greeting with familiarity.

Blaise Harman glared incredulously at Thierry's lame joke from over Thea's shoulder, before uttering, "Urgh," with a perfectly withering expression on her perfectly perfect face.

Casting a warning look at her often affronting cousin, Thea returned Thierry's greeting warmly, "Merry meet, My Lord."

"My dear, naïve little Thea," Blaise drawled, "Really, is there a need to be so formal? I'm sure everyone's well acquainted with us here. Well," she fluttered her long eyelashes flirtatiously, smoky grey eyes lingering on every face present, "_me_ at least."

Always the brasher of the two girls, Blaise smouldered in skin tight black leather as her accentuated curves screamed for attention.

"I see you're as self-centred as ever," Quinn remarked coolly.

"Looks like not even the Convent was able to change her attitude… unfortunately," Ash added.

"Who's she?" A pleasantly mellow voice questioned with little curiosity, but rather just for the sake of input.

There was a stunned silence as everyone paused to contemplate how any Night person could _not_ know of Blaise Harman.

All heads turned towards the trio at the back of the room. Phillip North leaned casually against a wall, whilst Poppy was frozen in the action of stuffing a chocolate brownie into her mouth. There was another brief moment of silence before Poppy choked on her overly large mouthful of brownie.

Seeing Poppy cough madly, James launched into action, grabbing her from behind in preparation to perform the Heimlich Manoeuvre.

"This is the problem with having human girlfriends," he complained to Ash and Quinn over the top of Poppy's fiery red curls, "you never know when they need to be saved."

The three boys exchanged knowing looks, but James Rasmussen never got to execute the famous manoeuvre. Wrapped securely in his tanned arms, Poppy giggled, her elfin features lighting up with amusement.

"Tricked ya!" she grinned cheekily.

James laughed, long used to her antics. **Don't make a habit out of giving me heart attacks like that, my little Poppet**, his warm voice murmured endearingly in her mind as he reached out and ruffled her curls fondly.

**Too late**, Poppy North replied, leaping onto James' back and latching there like a contented tree climber. From atop her slightly disgruntled perch, Poppy proceeded to announce, "The guy trying to blend into the wall back there is my brother. Don't mind him; he's a little shy-"

Before she'd even completed her sentence, Blaise was already sashaying towards Philip, her hips swaying seductively.

Leaning in so she was face to face with Philip, Blaise lowered her gently curved lashes indulgently. "And who are _you_, boy?"

She eyed the human in front of her- directly and without restraint. Not bad. He was tall and athletically built, just the way she liked them.

Without adjusting his rather comfortable position against the wall, Philip stated calmly, "Philip North."

Surprised by his unaffected reply, Blaise faltered in placing her slender hand on his shoulder. Instead, she spun around and stalked cattily towards Thierry.

"I don't see Delos here, Thierry," Quinn noted.

During the Daybreakers' friendly banter, Thierry had seated himself behind a desk. It was fine by him because he liked desks, and enjoyed sitting too. Although physically, he never aged, he was really a very old man. **Ancient prehistoric Neanderthal**, Hannah's light grey eyes sparkled with barely hidden amusement as she stood by his side, her straight hair pinned up behind her left ear to reveal a strawberry-coloured birthmark.

Covering his smile with a cough, Thierry replied to Quinn frankly, "Delos is looking into something for me." Running a hand through his dishevelled white-blond hair, he added, "As are Morgead, Jez and the others."

"Well Thierry," Blaise interrupted snarkily, "You're certainly keeping everyone busy while you hide here like a coward-"

"Blaise!" Thea glared at her cousin. Sighing, Blaise sat back down, crossing her long legs to show off how perfectly proportioned they were. She pouted- Thea always managed to spoil her fun.

Eric Ross had an arm protectively around Thea's shoulder, and Blaise scoffed at the sickeningly happy couple. Eric was a mutant, of that she was sure. After all, not only had he NOT been affected by her love concoction, but more importantly, he hadn't even been swayed by her delicious looks. This fact was something she would never be able to forgive.

Bored, Blaise stretched lazily, letting her tight top slide up to reveal a milky smooth, slate flat stomach.

The phone on Thierry's desk rang, and looking down at the caller I.D., Thierry appeared bemused as he pressed the loud speaker function. **Ah, the advances of technology**, he lamented to Hannah.

**Yes**, Hannah responded, her dove grey eyes focused on Thierry's face, **never in my previous lives would I have thought that this quaint little gadget can transfer voices from one side of the world to another, if necessary.**

"Thierry Descouedres speaking."

An angry voice from the other end of the phone interrupted everyone's thoughts.

"THIERRY DECOUEDRES, just how the HELL do you expect me to find this legendarily invisible and supposedly invincible pin cushion maker-ER?! I'm not a part of the Fantastic Four you know, I can't undo the special effects to reveal the bloodsuckers- not when they prefer to remain hidden." The voice paused to take a breath, "So. Explain yourself. Oh and save me a couple of hundred years and cut down to the important stuff, will you? We humans don't have as much time as you do."

Ash chuckled and Mary-Lynnette cast him a quizzical look.

"Why, that's a wonderful greeting, Ayla. Now say hello to the rest of the gang."

"What?"

"You're on loudspeaker lemony-lemony-lemon-sucker," Ash ended her confusion with a sing song voice.

"Vdkfjalfjssdklaf;!"

"Ah… did everyone quite catch that?" Thierry looked around with an air of overly optimistic expectancy.

"Care to explain… again?" Blaise prompted idly, holding her hand up to her face and inspecting her newly manicured nails.

An uninterrupted stream of profanities and an amazing eight generations of names from the Redfern clan seared through the phone and echoed around the room.

"_This_," Thierry confirmed, nodding sagely as though he had actually had a clue what the girl on the other end of the phone was talking about, "is what we're here to discuss."

James guessed that The Lord of the Night World had, in fact, no clue about anything. He was just there for display. It was fascinating to see a 30,000 year old vampire run on automaton. Shaking his head, James exchanged a pointed look with Poppy, who had removed herself from his back and was now standing with both feet on the ground. Miracles do happen.

"What, exactly… is the "**this**" you're alluding to?" Philip North contributed his ever helpful input. Blaise Harman gave him a look of thorough disgust, a look that clearly said: do you know _nothing_?

"Glad to hear you still swear like a man, Ayla Rousseau." Quinn smiled wryly.

"Hey Quinn, ohhh, one sec, let me check. Yahuh, yup, still the emotionless bastard you always were. Thank God that Rashel's keeping you sane- she is by FAR your better half. Or your better half by far, depending on your preference," cutting into her own sentence sharply, Ayla stated, "Oh and by the way Mary-Lynette, I'm afraid I'm going to have to apologize to you beforehand."

"Why?"

"Ash called me a lemon-sucker."

A chorus of knowledgeable "ahhhs" filled the room.

"I'll give you three seconds head start," Ayla warned.

"Poor thing," James muttered in Ash's general direction.

"One."

"Bad luck man," Quinn punched Ash's shoulder, "your tongue slipped at the wrong time."

"Two."

Blaise contributed, smiling darkly at the doomed blond vampire, "Buh-bye Ash-y."

"**Three.**"

Ash pleaded at Mary-Lynette with his eyes.

"Try to be gentle on him A," she remarked with little pity.

* * *

**A/N:** Aw, yes I can already hear the frustrated sighs... no Damien in this chapter. But that just means he's going to be hogging the next chapter like the hog he is (grins). Hopefully everyone enjoyed revisiting the soulmate links between many of L.'s wonderful Night World characters in this chapter, it's a kind of set up for the next chapter (with both Ayla and Damien -gasp-). Oh and lastly, if you guys want updates faster, feed me some food/reviews. I'll adore you for it. And type up the next chapter whilst chewing on the reviews.

Cheers,

dash


End file.
